Hades Memoirs: The Shadow of Death
by enRAGEd
Summary: Greg -Outbreak-. The conquering Thanatos decimates its enemies, while the sands of time run low for its creator. Mid-Decisions, Decisions; Thanatos looks completely different.


**Resident Evil: The Hades Memoirs**

**Gregory Abrams - ****The Shadow of Death**

They moved with military precision along the abandoned street, six black spectres, armed and armoured against the horrors of a city gone mad. Everything about them, from their equipment to their professionalism, to their ghoulish, gas mask faces, was unmistakably Umbrella. They despatched the stray undead, standing idle and emaciated in the road, at close quarters, evidently confident in their abilities. Once the path was clear, they turned as one and filed through the gateway that led onto the campus, the iron gate already lying mangled nearby, knocked down by a panicked driver days previously. They traversed the University grounds with admirable efficiency, drawing closer and closer until it was beyond any reasonable doubt what their target destination was.

"Making your play at last, I see. Excellent."

He watched through the University's surveillance network, watched as the soldiers converged on his laboratory. They were arrogant, as were their employers, to think that he would not be prepared for their arrival. Though it had been impossible to know when they would come, he had always known that eventually they would; one did not betray the company and live to savour their disloyalty. And so he watched as they approached, as the noose drew tight, aware that it was not a noose for his neck.

He watched as they crossed the courtyard, and then he watched their hubris turn to terror.

Thanatos, his creation, his masterpiece, fell among them, landing with feline grace at the centre of a spider's web of cracked concrete, one knee pressed to the shattered ground, one fist steadying its immense form, head bowed in almost peaceful silence. It rose, unfolding from its crouch and looming to its full height, virus-enhanced muscles rippling across its body as it set its shoulders, cold, white eyes focused with murderous intent, corpse-grey flesh glistening with the water from its cryogenic vat. In the daylight reflected through the billowing clouds of smog that rose from all around, choking the city's skyline, its skin seemed almost translucent, the outline of reinforced bones showing as dark, warping shadows beneath. The skeletal figure of death itself clothed in the raiment of a demon, it threw its head back and bellowed its challenge.

The humans attacked, weapons flashing as they opened fire altogether upon the unanticipated threat. Even as the first rounds hammered into its armoured epidermis, it lunged, selecting one of its hapless opponents at random, and slammed a massive fist into the man's front before he was even able to comprehend what was happening. The blow smashed his bones to pieces, sending demolished fragments pinwheeling through his organs, shredding them to pulp, an explosion of gore erupting from his back. The impact threw his ruined corpse across the courtyard, limbs flailing uselessly as he tumbled into a broken heap upon the concrete more than a dozen metres away.

Without allowing their surprise to show, the soldiers began to retreat, still firing as they consolidated their position. Their guns did little to harm Thanatos, bullets crumpling into fat metal mushrooms and spinning away from its impossibly dense skin with every volley, failing to penetrate deeper than its outermost layer. It charged, body changing direction with whiplash-inducing speed as it rounded upon a second victim, pounding the concrete to dust with its immense feet as it powered across the open space toward its target. It seized the man around his masked face, a terrified shriek ending abruptly as the beast crushed him into the floor, decimating his entire upper body and leaving his mangled carcass embedded in a shallow cement grave.

One trooper called a warning, snatching a grenade from his equipment harness and tossing it at the Tyrant's feet. The explosive detonated with a flat, jarring thump, the concussive force throwing up a wall of thick grey dust that obscured it from view for a few seconds. And then the choking cloud parted, the monster looming from the shadows, surging from the darkness, powerful and merciless, bearing down on the one that had thrown the grenade. The man roared in disbelief, spraying bullets indiscriminately until his weapon snapped empty, a ravenous metal animal gnashing its teeth hungrily, before the creature hammered him with a bone-jarring uppercut that tossed him into the air, separating his head from his torso in a geyser of blood.

The other soldiers had found respite behind an abandoned Transit, standing forgotten at the courtyard's periphery, its interior gutted and charred black from a fire that had started in the engine days before. Even as they took stock, Thanatos had found them, enhanced sensory organs picking the vibrations of their voices out of the air and turning its blank, murderous eyes toward the van. It lumbered forward, striding with purpose to the vehicle, wrapping one immense hand around the front bumper and flipping the entire transport over onto its roof, where it came to rest with a loud groan of stressed metal.

One man, who had been standing pressed to the chassis of their hiding place, toppled onto his back, having only enough time to see the huge, gnarled sole of the beast's foot before it pulped his head and shoulders. It left a gory smear on the ground as it moved off in pursuit of the remaining troopers, watching them impassively as they scrambled away. Their intentions were forgotten; their mission had vanished from their thoughts in their futile struggle for survival.

They were metres away when the beast paused, lowering its weight, wide legs tensing in readiness, before launching itself into the air, clearing the distance in a single bound. Its landing rocked the floor, sending one of the survivors staggering as two massive fists swung down and decimated him, a spray of blood and bone bursting from the mess he had become and painting the shattered concrete a deep, vivid red. The remaining soldier opened fire, spraying the Tyrant with an ineffectual hail of metal as it rose to its full, immense height once again.

It fixed him with blank, malevolent orbs of pure ivory, bearing down on him as he fumbled for another magazine from his sidepack, but before he had managed to reload, it slammed its immense palm full into his abdomen, shunting him to the ground. His firearm skidded across the floor, sliding well out of reach as his head smacked stiffly on the concrete. Disoriented, the black-clad figure pulled his mask up over his face, gasping for air through a thick mouthful of blood, able only to lash out uselessly as the monster stooped to grasp his leg in a grip that set him screaming. Hauling him into the air, thrashing like a fish on a line, Thanatos ran, stooped and leapt from the courtyard.

Having seen the glory of his creation firsthand, he now knew that it was perfect. It had neutralised Umbrella's lackeys in moments, and had even succeeded in identifying and capturing the unit's leader as per his instructions. Its performance had been nothing short of exceptional.

In light of this resounding triumph, Professor Gregory Abrams allowed himself a subtle, self-satisfied sneer.

-----x-----x-----x-----x-----x-----

As expected, the U.S.F member had told him nothing about the corporation's intentions; his kind were notoriously stoic in the face of interrogation. Regardless, his injuries made speaking an effort irrespective of his honed stubbornness. He was clearly suffering from internal trauma, constantly vomiting blood, and his eyes were unfocused, rolling in his head, only further increasing his nausea. The blow to his cranium had most likely caused a concussion. Furthermore, the leg of his trousers was soaked with gore from where the claws of his creation had hewn apart the flesh and the bones beneath were certainly broken. The pain kept him silent, despite the subtle ministrations his host plied to loosen his tongue.

His cooperation was not necessary though, as the sheaf of documents in his possession told Greg more than the soldier ever could have.

From the papers, he learned that his suspicions had been accurate and that William Birkin was now dead. It was an unfortunate turn of events, as the Raccoon facility's head researcher had always been something of a friend to him. Indeed, there were few who could claim to be his intellectual equal and he would miss the debates they had enjoyed in the past; admittedly those had been growing more and more rare as the other man's G-virus research came ever-closer to its conclusion. Still, their benefactors did not look kindly upon betrayal; they had both known that much.

It was clear from the orders the interlopers had been given that the company did not know how far Greg's research had come. There was no reason why they should have known, considering that Raccoon University had been silent since the quarantine of the city almost a week previously. They had been sent primarily to confirm his death, if he were truly dead, and appraise his progress on the tasks he had been given. Despite the fact that it had been over a month since he had commenced the Thanatos project, there was no mention of that, primarily because he had deliberately neglected to report that fact.

It had been his intention to betray them from the start and the Tyrant was to be his trump card in the event that they realised that. He couldn't blame the soldiers, elite as they were, for being unprepared to face such a monster. The standard Tyrant units, codenamed T-103, had only recently been perfected, while Thanatos was vastly superior even to them. It was one of a kind, the pinnacle of two decades of research, much of that overseen by Greg himself, and the combined contribution of more than a dozen great minds.

The University had been a breeding ground for future Umbrella researchers, and not just students; some of Greg's fellows at the institution would have made fine assets for the company. Unfortunately, the tragic destruction of Arklay and the worsening situation in the city had forced their hand insofar as the recruits were concerned. Part of his assignment, as a professor at the institution, had been to press the individuals singled out for future advancement into projects that would benefit from their input. It had been no easy task introducing so many individuals to the clandestine world of bio-weapons research, but not beyond his capabilities; that was why the responsibility had been given to him.

In the weeks leading up to the disaster that had claimed Raccoon's sanity, he had flattered, intimidated, bribed, blackmailed and lied to every man and woman that his organisation had been watching. The ideal candidates, those who would have made excellent head researchers in their own right, were quite content to follow Greg's lead on each of the duties he assigned to them. Most of these individuals he had put to work on Thanatos itself, vat-growing its body, designing and fitting its enhancements, programming its operating code and fitting its cybernetic implants.

The culmination of their work was the beast that had so utterly obliterated the Umbrella Security Force's operatives.

After twenty years spent toiling over the Tyrant virus and its derivative B.O.W by-products, Greg had grown to hate the corporation he worked for. A group whose sole focus was profit could never hope to understand the true spirit of scientific endeavour; they were concerned only with cost-effectiveness, measuring success in terms of dollars rather than true progress. Money was inconsequential in the grander scheme of things. Thanatos was a learning experience for Umbrella; it was everything that they had ever hoped to create through the T-virus program, the perfect bio-weapon.

It was a soldier. Its mind had been constructed from strings of code laced together to form a complex system of control, fed into a brain that was, at its core, a processor of infinite capability, far beyond the feeble minds of the T-103 units. It followed orders to the letter, efficiently and without question, without doubts. It did not suffer from guilt, nor did it labour beneath a conscience. Its skin was impervious to damage; its mind was impervious to fear and pain. Its speed and power were beyond those of the strongest predators; its senses were sharper than anything found in nature.

It was a monster. It had been designed to strike terror into the hearts of its enemies. Cruel spikes of bone ran the length of its back, jutting outwards in a line from its spinal column; its face was set in a hard, dark frown. He had left it equipped with vocal chords, as he felt that a true monster should have been able to intimidate with its roar. Its treatments had warped its voice into a low, guttural parody of a human bellow, a truly terrifying sound.

It was at once beautiful and terrible. Its dense skin was the hue of smooth, polished stone, pulled taut over an immense frame composed of enhanced muscle. Its eyes glowed like two pearls catching the daylight. Its gender was unimportant; gender itself was utterly irrelevant, after all. Its beauty transcended such petty distinctions, and so he had made it sexless. It moved with grace and fluidity. The virus threaded throughout its veins meant that it would never age, nor would it ever die of its injuries. Thanatos made humanity's frailty a painfully obvious truth.

For Greg, it was to be the first step on the crusade towards true evolution, an evolution that man would make for himself via the medium of science. Nature had given up the ghost long ago, but science would find the path that had been lost, of that much he was certain.

Umbrella had intended to evacuate the researchers working under him once the situation in the city reached a critical point; he had spoiled their plan by severing all communication with them on the day that the blockade had begun, leaving them ignorant of the situation there. Even if they had tried a rescue attempt for the men and women at the University, they would have found little more than corpses waiting for them. He had programmed Thanatos to calibrate its combat systems using them as the targets and then allowed it to hunt them all down one by one, utilising its inbuilt pheromone sensors, originally designed for the Nemesis T-unit.

It had seemed a shame to waste the Tyrant's potential on civilians and he had been pleasantly surprised when, at last, the unit despatched by the company had arrived to investigate. He knew, from anecdotes that Birkin had told him, of the skill exhibited by members of the private military and had fretted momentarily over the outcome of the battle. As it had turned out, he needn't have worried at all.

Now he was one step closer to achieving his goal. After liberating the dying man of his orders, Greg had left him to live out his final moments strapped to the gurney in the other room, alongside the other trophies that his creation had acquired. He found the idea of killing the man himself to be distasteful; the injuries he had sustained would be enough to ensure that he did not live past the hour and he could not escape from his restraints regardless. There were other matters that required his attention.

He had watched, with some interest, the progress of four intruders to the campus, some time before the soldiers had arrived. They were civilians one and all, haggard and desperate after a week of difficult survival, and so he had not seen fit to despatch the beast after them. He had fostered an interest in them when they had begun to gather the components for the T-virus antigen, Daylight, however.

For years, there had been no recourse to treat advanced T-virus infection. Wounds could be sanitised using extracts from herbs cultured by the botanical division, providing that they were applied within a few moments of the initial contamination, but once the patient became symptomatic there was nothing that could be done. Umbrella's best minds had toyed with various methods for developing a cure, but had made very little progress; they had only recently stumbled upon an antibody that could be used to suppress the spread of the virus through the human body, though Greg had his suspicions that the project had been stymied by greedy minds who wished to wait for the perfect marketing opportunity for such a product; an outbreak on the scale of Raccoon City, for instance. Regardless, his superiors had authorised him to continue the research at the University with his recruits.

There had been one man whom the supervisor was almost certain could yield results where the majority of his contemporaries had failed, another professor at the University by the name of Peter Emery. He had an exceptional mind, but lacked the moral vacancy of some of the more suitable candidates, meaning that the company would never have been able to approach him directly. Greg had introduced himself as a former employee of Umbrella who had resigned out of disgust after learning of their less tasteful endeavours. He had played the part well and, more importantly, Peter had been convinced. They had commenced work on their antidote immediately, the other man performing the research while he supplied the necessary equipment and samples.

Two weeks ago, Peter's work had been concluded, though at some point he had learned of Greg's duplicity. Fortunately, by that point the situation in the city was reaching an intolerable level and there was no one for him to contact for help. The blond himself was no murderer, but it had been a simple enough task to encourage one of his other subordinates to locate and silence the researcher before he had time to flee the campus. His research was nowhere to be found, however, and that had proven most vexing.

He had believed Daylight to be lost forever, until the four survivors had arrived. One of them appeared to have prior knowledge of the University and had somehow uncovered the secrets that the late Professor Emery had managed to hide prior to his death. And so he had watched, and waited, while the four located the elements necessary to create the anti-virus, as they brought it to the laboratory to synthesise it, as they unwittingly brought it directly to him. Now they were in the next room, waiting for the result of their labours; Daylight.

His office was an empty laboratory on the upper floor of one of the institution's several building that had been undergoing extensive refurbishment prior to the catastrophe. From there, he had access to door locks, electrical grids, and even the surveillance system that allowed him to watch as events unfolded, all courtesy of the now-deceased computing department. It took him mere seconds to shut down the incubator, watching as their hope turned to dismay, and seconds more to unlock the doors between them, allowing them access to the office.

He felt that it was time to greet these helpful souls.

They were a ragtag bunch of misfits, led by a police officer from the city's local law enforcement agency with unruly hair and an expression that should have been carefree but for the weariness that had settled there. He carried a pistol clutched in his hands and seemed studied in its use; weapons of that nature often imbued people with authority in crisis situations, more so than any uniform or badge ever could. The others consisted of a blonde in the garb of a waitress, an older man clad in a charcoal grey suit, possibly a fellow academic, and a young woman of Oriental descent who may even have been a student at the University. He appraised each of them in turn as he welcomed them to the hub of his endeavours.

"My apologies for the interruption," he offered softly, smiling in as warm a fashion as he could manage, "I felt it would only be polite to greet you in person and offer my sincerest thanks for your assistance."

The fair-haired female was the first to speak, though she did not move away from the rough triangle that she and the other civilians formed behind the armed man. "Who are you?" she asked, a straight-forward enough question for a first meeting.

"My name isn't important," he informed her, more because it was true than as an attempt to sound in some way mysterious; given how brief their association would be, he saw no reason for full introductions, "Daylight is the only thing that matters and now, thanks to you, I now possess the necessary components."

"You're Greg, aren't you?" the grey-clad male asked, an individual considerably older than the other three in his party, perhaps even as old as the man he was addressing, "the former Umbrella researcher Peter mentioned; only you still work for them, don't you? Or at least, you did while you were manipulating him into performing your research."

"You are quite right, of course," he responded with a casual nod, seeing no reason not to confirm the suspicions that had been aired, aware that his answer would not negatively affect the exchange that was to follow, "I have since tendered my resignation, however. The data from the projects carried out here will be more than enough to secure a position, and funding, with one of their competitors. Daylight will prove to be a vital bargaining chip."

"Hundreds of people _need _that cure, and you're just gonna try and sell it?" the police officer asked incredulously, voice edged with a harshness that came from unimaginable stress, rising to the fore now that he had been given a palpable antagonist to focus his aggravation on, "I could just kick your ass right now and start the machine back up. Think you can stop me?"

"I would hope that you would not resort to such vulgar physicality," he said, his easy smile faltering slightly with his displeasure at the other man's outward display of aggression, "even if you were to incapacitate me, Thanatos will return soon and its programming is quite specific; it will eliminate all intruders and wait for my command. You will not have long enough to synthesise even one vial. I had intended to offer you the use of this building's escape route, so that you could at least live out your final hours with some dignity, rather than being rent asunder by the Tyrant; a reasonable compromise, I thought. Is it too much to hope that you are not beyond reason?"

They seemed ill at ease with the idea of abandoning their quest for the cure, though he could see a glimmer of fear registering on their tired features at the mention of his monstrous masterpiece; they clearly had experience of the beast. In truth, although Thanatos was a superior specimen of the T-virus project, its usefulness was limited. It had served him well in protecting his research at the University, but it could not be taken beyond Raccoon City; it was far too visible and he could not have made transport arrangements for it as easily as he could for himself. The helicopter pilot he had commissioned for that very duty was due to arrive mere hours from now at one of the campus's many plazas and he could not afford to have the Tyrant with him.

It seemed like an appropriate opportunity to test the true extent of Daylight's power; the various virus-cultured tissues in his creation's body should theoretically dissolve into nothing once the antigen was introduced to its system. It was an ignoble end to such a marvel, but necessary, and he would carry the test data from its limited period of activation with him upon his departure. It would surely rise again under the banner of another organisation.

"Sending us away without the cure is as much a death sentence as if you had killed us yourself," the scholar pointed out petulantly, his tone edged with self-righteous moral indignation.

"I am no murderer, friend," he was quick to state, this time his previously pleasant expression vanishing altogether, though his voice remained as polite and warm as ever.

In his own mind, the distinction was clear; despite the dreadful deeds that had been done within the bounds of the University this past few weeks, his own hands remained as clean of blood as ever. The crimes of the corporation were not his to answer for and though he had worked with his fair share of human test subjects during his distinguished career, he knew that his motives were pure, nothing short of the pursuit of evolution. Had they known, had they been capable of comprehending what their sacrifice would bring to humanity, they would surely have volunteered in a heartbeat, as would he.

"Certainly not a murderer," he repeated, watching the features of the armed man carefully, before the gentle upturn at the corner of his lips reasserted itself, "but then, neither are you, so it would appear that we have reached something of an impasse."

The rugged male's jaw clenched slightly and he made a move that suggested he was intending to do exactly as he had threatened mere minutes before, only for the girl, who had, until that moment, remained entirely silent, to step forward and place a restraining arm around his to prevent him from moving any further, evidently sensing that he was intending to do something foolish.

"Kevin, we should go," she told him, making an admirable attempt to arrest her own emotional outburst at the hopelessness of her situation, though glancing furtively around the room for fear of seeing their coming demise, "this won't help us. You heard what he said; we aren't safe here."

Greg observed silently as she placated her companion, appreciative that at least one of the assembled company had seen sense with his proposal. And yet, even as he studied her youthful, faintly Asian countenance, he felt a sliver of disquiet embed itself within the mounting sensation of triumph that was currently building inside him. It took him a moment to realise what was amiss.

"Yoko?" he asked, a subtle hint of confusion creeping into his otherwise genial tone.

Though he could not be certain that this individual was truly Yoko Suzuki, she did bear a most striking resemblance. Her hair had been cut to just above her shoulders and her customary plastic-framed spectacles were missing, but there was something of the person he remembered in her. She now more closely resembled the near-child who had arrived some four years previously to pursue Umbrella's management training course at the University under his guidance. It had been so long since he had last seen the girl before him, rather than the woman she had become, that he momentarily failed to recognise her.

"Why, it's been months at least," he continued, "I read reports of the incident at the Chemical Plant; such an upsetting end for one of Umbrella's most promising junior researchers. I am surprised to see you alive, and here of all places. And with these ... people."

"You know who I am?" she asked, genuinely surprised that he had recognised her.

"But of course," he assured her, unlikely to forget a rare kindred spirit such as herself, "you served as my assistant here during your internship, before you were recruited for the Raccoon City laboratory. You were an exceptional pupil, who understood the scientific merit of the company's research, something of a prodigy, in fact. Your views were parallel to my own; the corporate bureaucrats could never hope to understand the true value of our endeavours. Can it be that you have forgotten all this?"

"Shadows and echoes; I mean, I know my name, I remember that and, well, this place. I'm a student here, I think, but..." she stammered, timidly stepping forward to stand beside the police officer, who put a protective hand upon her shoulder; Greg could hardly blame her for being nervous considering that she were addressing someone who seemed to know more about her own life than even she seemed to, "I ... think I know you, but I don't remember you... I don't remember anything before a few days ago."

"You are Yoko Suzuki, a junior researcher with Umbrella Incorporated's White Division," he responded, recounting what he knew of the bright young rising star he had worked with over the course of the last four years, "you dedicated yourself, as so few do, to the pursuit of scientific progress. You learned of our benefactors' darker secrets and embraced them, just as I had done over two decades ago. But, more than a week previously, you vanished from the Raccoon installation. According to my official sources, you were deemed a liability and a target for liquidation. I must confess, I am perturbed to see you now, looking more like the person you were than the person you are; unless, of course, you do not consider yourself to be that person any longer. If there is any part of you that yet remains, I urge you to come with me and leave Raccoon City. Together we may find a place that truly appreciates and understands our genius."

Her eyes widened at his offer, her companions turning to look at her with bewildered glances, hurt and anticipating a betrayal that would strike at their very hearts. No doubt they had formed quite an attachment to the girl in their time together, but were clearly not so confident in her that they did not believe her old self incapable of reasserting. She gaped, a rictus of horror forming on her features, and she shook her head silently in absolute disbelief, before finally she discovered her voice.

"No!" she practically yelled, her voice cracking with the strength of her insistence, seemingly horrified that he had even suggested such a thing, "no! Never! I won't go with you! I won't become a monster like you! Maybe I forgot who I am, but if I was like you then I'm glad. I never want to be that person. I'd rather die."

He looked on impassively as her group formed around her, the blonde woman touching her arm gently, the older man placing a hand to her back, and the police officer giving her shoulder a squeeze of reassurance. It was disappointing that she had elected to discard the qualities that both he and the company had prized in her so that she could match the feeble moral sensibilities of her new company through some misguided sense of loyalty. Still, it was of little consequence to him, a minor vexation that stemmed from an unplanned deviation from his schedule; it would not change his plans, nor would he regret the situation once it had passed.

"So be it," he said dismissively, "I had wondered at the prudence of Umbrella's decision to forcibly induct you into the Tyrant virus program following your disappearance, though I now see that they were correct; your brilliance is now too corrupt to make use of. A pity; you would have made a most capable assistant in my future endeavours. Nevertheless..."

He paused, momentarily aware of something unpleasantly amiss in his surroundings. The four remained standing where they had been moments before, clustered in a close grouping like animals seeking shelter within the company of their kin; he himself had not moved. The room was as bland and featureless as ever it had been, aside from one minor change that he almost abruptly became aware of. There was a projector that he had been using to better educate his charges at the University currently throwing its ghostly illumination pointing aimlessly at the wall, for no other reason than he had forgotten to switch it off. It was now showing a strange glaze of red over its otherwise colourless picture.

He frowned, wondering what had happened to alter it in such a strange manner, before he was struck by the sudden thought that something had dropped into the machine from above.

Perplexed, his head snapped upwards, eyes combing the rafters of the unfinished ceiling, the intricacies of its electrical systems, ducts and pipelines still visible to the occupants of the room above the neon strip lights that illuminated the chamber, providing one cared to look. He came face-to-face with the soldier that Thanatos had retrieved. His mouth and clothing were still caked in dried gore, his face creased in pain and concentration as he lingered in the darkness like the predatory shadow of death itself. Clutched in his trembling hands was the scythe, a pistol sporting the fat barrel of a silencer upon its end.

A single droplet of blood spattered on his right cheek.

"See you in hell," the man grunted, startling the other four individuals in the room.

His finger tightened around the trigger of his weapon and a lance of pain burrowed through the Professor's crown, the bullet bursting his brain and erupting from the underside of his jaw.

Even as a fountain of blood sprayed in a downward geyser from his chin, soaking his otherwise pristine blue surgical scrubs, even as the guests recoiled in surprise at his sudden, ignominious death, even as the stained projection upon the wall turned crimson with his life fluid, he fell and died in that terrible instant.

And it had all been going so very promisingly...


End file.
